


a hurricane is just a breeze

by cottoneyed



Category: Women's Hockey RPF
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-26
Updated: 2017-11-26
Packaged: 2019-02-06 09:55:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12815022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cottoneyed/pseuds/cottoneyed
Summary: Charlie plays peacemaker.





	a hurricane is just a breeze

Charlie almost doesn't notice Caro sitting outside her apartment. Charlie can’t notice Caro sitting outside her apartment, she’s trying to balance a pizza box on top of several bags of groceries, all threatening to slip out of her hands. She’s navigating from her car to her apartment by memory and prayer.

“Need help?” Caro says, and steadies the pizza box when Charlie startles. Caro uses her own key to open the door.  
  
“Why didn’t you just come inside in the first place?” Charlie says. “Thanks,” she adds belatedly. Caro holds her hand out for the pizza box and Charlie lifts her chin enough for Caro to slide it away. “Extra Italian sausage,” she says, heading into the kitchen. “It’s been one of those days.”

“Me too,” Caro replies, picking at the edge of the box. Charlie raises her eyebrows invitingly but Caro doesn’t look up. She gets quiet, when she’s upset.

Charlie enters the living room, wine glasses in hand, to Caro putting in a Grey’s Anatomy DVD. Very upset, then. They watch in silence, curled up on opposite ends of the couch. She makes sure Caro gets the slices with the extra pieces of sausage. She’s half-written a text to Julie near the end of the episode when it clicks that Caro is here sulking on her couch because she fought with Julie. It really has been a long day.

“Wanna talk about it?" Charlie says.

Caro stands, holding out her hand for Charlie’s plate. “I want to sleep."

"You’re welcome to the couch,” Charlie says.

Caro bites her lip. “I’ll head back.”

*

Charlie takes her time in the shower, and ends up scrolling through Facebook in bed longer than she means to. It’s another fifteen minutes later when she starts slipping into sleep, and only then does Caro knock at her door.

“Actually," Caro says, opening the door enough to speak through the crack. Charlie squints blearily in the direction of her voice. She’s willing to bet that if she got up and checked, she’d find tonight’s dishes dried and everything in living room tidied. "Can I borrow your couch?”

“You can get bent,” Charlie says into her pillow.

“I appreciate it,” Caro replies, shutting the door behind her with a quiet click. Charlie has almost drifted back right into that comfortable space before sleep when she finds herself thinking about Caro, Caro’s back, and the lumpy old couch she’s been meaning to get rid of years.

She fumbles for the notebook on her nightstand. She’d read an article once, about the benefits of keeping a dream journal. It had been in one of the magazines she impulse-bought at the checkout counter and left on her coffee table until she injured herself and was ordered to stay still, bored out of her skull. Her ankle, last time — sprained, but not badly. She’d been back to playing in three weeks, which is exactly how long she’d kept the dream journal. It had, as with many other things, seemed like a good idea at the time.

Now it functions as a coaster for coffee mugs. She lobs the notebook at the door as hard as she can.

“Are you okay?” Caro says. She sounds close by, like she was unwilling to face the couch. Charlie can’t blame her.

“Get into bed,” Charlie replies.

“Are you su—” Charlie groans, and doesn’t stop groaning until Caro is tugging at the sheets on the other side of the bed.

She knows better than to allow herself to drift off now, and sure enough there's a little sigh before Caro speaks. “Me and Julie fought,” she whispers. “She’s really mad.” Charlie flips over to face her, and keeps quiet, letting Caro find the words. “I said some things, maybe,” Caro says eventually. “But she did too.”

"Okay," Charlie says. "Wanna talk about it?"

A pause. "Not yet," Caro replies.

“Okay,” Charlie says again. “Gill has some herbal teas in the cabinet if you can’t sleep.”

“Okay,” Caro replies, sounding very much like she has no plans to get out of bed even if she has to be awake to see the sunrise. Charlie sighs, and sleeps.

*

Charlie keeps her kitchen well-stocked with a bit of everything. When Caro comes out of the bedroom, squinting and vaguely annoyed, Charlie’s already got eggs poaching, and hashbrowns sizzling in another pan.

They drink coffee in silence until Caro staring at the same square inch of table gets to be too much.

“Missing Chuey?” It lands like she’s slapped Caro and Charlie pats her arm in sympathy. “Go see her today. Maybe take her to a nice restaurant.”

“She won’t go with me,” Caro says.

“How do you know?” Caro doesn’t reply, and Charlie sighs, blowing hair out of her face. “We fly out for training camp in about a week,” she says. “The Americans meet — the day after ours? You need to talk to each other, maybe apologize.”

She regrets the last bit even before she’s finished saying it. Caro looks up at her mulishly. “I wasn’t the only one who messed up.”

“You still need to talk,” Charlie says. “We're all going to Finland soon!"

“It's fine," Caro says. "She's taking care of the cat in the meantime."

“Please,” Charlie says, “please tell me you aren’t staying at my apartment because you think the only reason Chuey is sticking around town is to take care of your cat.”

“That would be unfair to Julie,” Caro says, avoiding eye contact like she knows how close Charlie is to throwing the spatula at her.

*

Charlie stares at her open suitcase. There isn’t enough room for her new oxfords. She’s already got her essentials in there, but she really wants to wear these oxfords. Her open suitcase stares back.

“Maybe,” Marie says tentatively, “you could check another bag?”

“No chance,” Charlie replies automatically. She’s here to show Marie how to start packing early, and efficiently — she can’t be defeated by a pair of shoes. She would absolutely never hear the end of it if she checked another bag. Her phone dings, a text from her mom about their lunch before she has to fly off for Worlds.

“Is that Caro? Is she dropping by? WIth Chuey," Marie adds, belatedly. Charlie bites down on a smile. Caro has been chirped relentlessly about Marie’s hero worship but it really is very cute.

“No, she's got a meeting, and they're not done sulking yet anyway,” Charlie replies. “You don’t always have to fold shirts, you know. Laying them out flat saves space.”

“Sulking?” Marie says, unfolding a shirt. Charlie looks up at Marie, wincing at the slip, but realization is already dawning on her face. “Are Caro and Chuey fighting?”

The rookies are all so wide-eyed these days, Charlie thinks, blowing strands of hair out of her face. “In a normal way,” she says, in her best reassuring voice. “In a healthy way. Like you and your girlfriend.”

“I’m single,” Marie replies.

“Like you and your ex-girlfriend then.” Maybe if she wears extra layers on the plane she can free up precious inches for the shoes.

“I’m _single_.”

Marie looks worried and, worse, sad. Charlie pats the floor beside her. Marie crosses the room, dropping down next to her.

“Sometimes couples fight,” Charlie says trying to make herself sound gentle and matter-of-fact at the same time. She wonders if that was too patronizing a statement; Marie doesn’t like being babied, she gets red and tense and won’t make eye contact. “They’re upset with each other right now, but I’ve seen them argue before, and they’ve always managed to work it out.”

“I’m not worried,” Marie mumbles, but she won’t look at Charlie. “How long have they been fighting?”

Despite the sheer volume of Caro’s stress-baking, it’s not a bad fight, just bad timing, with training camp and Worlds soon, and not enough time to talk. “They’ll figure it out because they love each other,” Charlie says. “You know them, they’re both so stubborn.”

Marie smiles at that, leaning into Charlie’s side. “Do you want to put your shoes in my suitcase? My mom got me a bigger one than I need.”  
  
“You are my _favourite_ ,” Charlie says fervently, and Marie laughs, the last of the tension in her shoulders draining away.

*

Charlie gets home later than she thought she would — she ended up taking Marie to the rink for a scrimmage, trying to take the nervous energy out of her. It’ll be her first tournament with the senior team, and Charlie doesn’t think Marie’s taken a full breath since she got the call. The scrimmage helped, she's sure, and lighting Charlie up definitely helped. For the good of the children, Charlie thinks. She opens the door to her apartment, and is immediately hit by the smell of what might be rotting fish.

“Did packing with Pou go okay?” Caro calls from the kitchen. “You were gone a while. I had time to start on dinner. Lutefisk!”

“What,” Charlie says blankly.

“Lutefisk. It’s Norwegian. Or maybe Swedish. It’s supposed to be a Christmas meal, but I figured why wait.”

This has to end, Charlie thinks.

*

Julie flings the door open and stops abruptly, staring at Charlie. “Oh,” she says. “Hi. Come in.”

“Expecting someone else?” Charlie says, stifling a yawn. She should have put her equipment inside before she stormed away. Her hockey gear was stinking up the back of her car so much she found herself wondering if it was hypocritical of her to criticise the lute-whatever.

“Nope,” Julie says. She sits down on the couch, arms crossed.

“Caro’s been making dishes even I can’t pronounce,” Charlie says. “And she kicks in her sleep.”

“I’ve told her she can stay in the apartment,” Julie says hotly. “There are twenty hotels nearby, it wouldn’t be hard to get a room.”

It wouldn’t be hard to drive back to the States either, Charlie thinks, but that isn’t right. Julie doesn’t run from fights, no matter how much Caro worries she might.

“You two aren’t going to talk?”

Julie shifts. “Someone’s gotta take care of the cat,” she mumbles, and Charlie takes a moment to think of how well suited Julie and Caro are for each other. It’s a shame she isn’t holding a spatula right now.

“The cat,” she replies flatly, and Julie shifts again, managing somehow to look even guiltier. “You aren’t ready to forgive yet.”

“I hate fighting with Caro,” Julie tells the floor earnestly.

Charlie waits to see if she’ll elaborate, but nothing seems forthcoming. “There is a lutefish in my home,” she says plaintively.

Julie tilts her head. “You mean lutefisk? They’re kind of popular in Minnesota, I remember when we were coaching together — are you okay?”

There’s probably a vein throbbing in her forehead, Charlie thinks. Maybe her eye is twitching. “I’m going to drink the nicest bottle of wine Caro has,” she announces. Julie smirks, and Charlie takes that as permission, turning on her heel and heading for the kitchen. She ignores the knock at the door, rummaging for the bottle opener. “I just want you to know,” she calls, “that Caro is at my place. All alone. By herself.”

“Caro!” Julie says.

“Yes, you know her,” Charlie says. “Where’s the bottle opener?”

“Third drawer,” Caro replies, and Charlie squeaks.

“You’re home,” Charlie says, recovering. “Did you exorcise the smell from my home?” She realizes too late she’s fallen back into French, but she has no desire to learn if there is a translation for lutefisk, and Julie looks like she's following along fine anyway.

“It doesn’t smell that bad,” Caro says, in English.

“I thought the smell was going to come alive and give me a wedgie, Caro,” Charlie says. Julie laughs, which makes Charlie smile. Caro looks longingly at Julie laughing, and then abruptly away when Julie catches her eye, which makes Charlie finally reach for the wine.

“We should maybe,” Julie begins. “Maybe talk.”

“My apartment is empty, and waiting to be Febrezed,” Charlie offers immediately. “I’ll even watch the cat.”

“He doesn’t need to be watched,” Caro says. Charlie pours herself a generous glass.

“Okay!” Julie says. “Well, we’ll — we’ll go. There’s leftovers in the fridge. The cat might jump in there too, don’t worry about it. Bye!”

“Bye — what?” Charlie says. “Where?” but it’s too late. Caro coos a goodbye at Boby before the door closes behind her.

*

The sun is right about to set when Charlie steps into her apartment. Julie has Caro pressed against the wall in the foyer and Charlie — she’ll deny this later — shrieks.

“Why,” she wails, over shocked bilingual cursing. “Why is it always me?”

“We were just on our way to you,” Julie says, sounding remarkably put together for someone who not two seconds ago had her hands in Caro’s back pockets. American media training must really be something.

“You could’ve called ahead,” Caro adds, buttoning up her shirt. There’s a line of red marks down her neck Charlie wishes she hadn’t seen.

“Called ahead,” Charlie repeats, incredulous. “To enter my own home?” Caro shrugs. “Did you leave my couch alone?” Charlie mutters, stalking past them. “Is anything safe?”

“Everything!” Julie says. “Mostly everything. Half of everything?”

“Half of everything,” Caro agrees, smiling at Julie. Julie beams, nudging Caro’s shoulder with her own.

“I miss when we all hated each other,” Charlie says, turning away so they don’t see her smile.

“I never hated either of you,” Caro says, and Charlie rolls her eyes. There’s only so much sap she can take in a day. “I’m having ice cream,” Charlie calls. “Join me or get out!”

“Ooh,” Julie says. “Definitely joining.”

“Oh,” Caro says. “Sure. Joining.”

“I’m picking what we watch, too,” Charlie says, and Julie laughs behind her.

“It’s your apartment,” she says, getting out bowls.

Charlie opens the freezer door and then jerks it halfway closed again, a sense-memory of Boby trying to jump into the fridge when Charlie went for leftovers. He was probably trying to escape the lingering angst still hanging in the air. Maybe she should take the cat for a few days, just so they can’t use him as a crutch. Or maybe, Caro’s voice says in her head, you should get your own damn cat.

“Now you remember,” Charlie replies, belated. Julie looks at her curiously, but smiles when Charlie makes a face at her.

Caro waves spoons at her. “Get the ice cream already,” she says. “And the lutefisk is in the fridge for you, by the way.”

“As a thank you,” Julie adds.

No, Charlie’s definitely stealing their cat.

**Author's Note:**

> title from lay by me by firekid


End file.
